


Seven

by BranHowe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Torture, Depictions of Decay, Gun Violence, M/M, Sastiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 13:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19427020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BranHowe/pseuds/BranHowe
Summary: Sam only wanted a rest but his nightmares won't let him have it.





	Seven

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [Sastiel Creations Challenge](https://sastielcreationschallenge.tumblr.com/) at Tumblr under the username @twodaysintojune  
> ↳ Theme: SEVEN | Prompt: WRATH

It might not have been the best idea to watch this movie after the events of the last week but Sam was spent and frustrated and pretty much all he really wanted was to get into his little happy serial killer binge, as fucked up as that might have sounded for anyone else. He was so tired that by the middle of the movie he was already snoozing. 

The sun was heavy over them, their necks were dripping sweat and the dirt road was picking up all the dust that lifted while the car moved over it, covering it with a fine layer of evident beige. Dean was grumbling below his breath complaining about it when they arrived to the point Nick, who had finally shut up after a two hour long trip, had showed them on the gps. 

He had said that was the place where he hid the most important part of his murder spree, something that the police wouldn’t care about. The boys didn’t like it at all, the whole ‘follow the psycho leader’ thing but there wasn’t much they could do right now. They had allowed the monster in so it was their job to clean this mess. Sam kept his ear over the calling phone for as long as it rang until the line broke.

“Anything?”

“Nope.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll call back when he can.”

Sam gruffed while looking outside. Three days. It had been three days since Sam last talked with Castiel and he just couldn’t take off this feeling that his friend needed him. Two days since they had found Nick and one day and almost disfiguring his face in order to get the location of this mystery thing. 

The place was surreal. A flat dirty surface extended everywhere around them. Electric poles carrying immense charges of electricity at either side of the car. A storm on the horizon made the area where they were standing feel dense and stuffy. Sam hated everything about this place.

Dean stopped the car, jumped out and opened up his side to pull Nick from the backseat.

“Alright asshat, where to now?”

Nick looked at Dean like a kicked puppy after he had pushed him further away from the car and turned to look around. After a moment scanning the area he signaled an electricity tower with his head.

“There, that pole there with the white stripe. I buried the box in there.”

Dean looked at him and then at Sam in annoyance. He moved to the trunk and searched for a shovel, leaving Nick to Sam.

“You know Sam, everytime I see how much you care about your angel I just have this feeling of… utter frustration in my guts. Like, why would you even waste your time calling him? Lucifer told me all about Castiel from that time he used his body as vessel and trust me when I tell you I was shocked to hear an angel could do something like that… I mean, you must remember all the bad things he’s done, like, releasing the Leviathans? Breaking your soul?” Nick winced. 

“Shut up Nick.”

They had gotten close to the pole, Dean had walked before them and was already hitting the ground in a place that had been recently removed.

“And honestly, I get it, he helped you. He allowed you to lean over him, well maybe he allowed your brother more than you but you get it, right?” Sam glared at Nick “Most likely because he felt guilty but still he was there and he provided as much as he could…” 

Nick’s thought process went mute, he was watching Dean shovel like he was in a trance for a while.

“And he was smart. I bet he could have even told you how to open a door to the Empty if you had only asked. He had been there before, there was no way he wouldn’t.” Dean lent down to remove something from the hole he had done. “But I was not you so he didn’t tell me.”

Sam turned to look at Nick frowning, he had tried to block out all his previous comments until the last one. There was something about those lines that just felt wrong. Nick turned to look at Sam, capturing his sight.

“We discussed a bit, you know? I called him out and he came unto me all preachy. Sam and Dean would never do this. They would never do that. When I was done at listening to the way he stupidly thought so highly of you I made a bet with him about how up to the righteous challenge you could go.To see how well you can hold yourself.”

“Son of a bitch!”

Dean’s cry was filled with shock. Sam turned to see his brother move away from the opened cooler box with a hand covering his face and eyes wide open. Soon enough he turned away and began to barge out all he had eaten earlier.

Curious with Dean’s odd behaviour, Sam went forward to look at the contents of the box but when Dean noticed he ran towards his brother and pushed him back.

“No Sammy, you can’t see this.”

Sam glared at Dean vexed, it was ridiculous to think that anything could be horrible enough not to look at by now in their line of work.

“What’s in the box?”

Everything went into slow motion. Him struggling against Dean. Nick egging him to look into the box laughing.

“Tell me Sam, how human are you for real?” 

“Dammit Dean, what’s in the box!?”

“No, Sammy, please stop!”

After a couple more steps he was able to glance into the box. He saw black. Black hair. Ashen skin, lips slightly falling apart in the usual state of a corpse that has already lost the first stages of rigor mortis. And the eyes, gone. 

Sam could have stood closed eyelids, heck, he could have stood open fogged eyes that would never see him, really see him again but this? Eyelids torn apart and eyeballs missing? Where had Castiel’s eyes gone? Where had Castiel’s beautiful piercing blue eyes disappeared? Where is the white noise coming from? Where is the mortifying silence coming from? Where is that ringing noise coming from? Why is it growing louder?

“What did you do to him?”

“He told me I was unable to see things how they really were.”

“What. Did. You. Do to Him!?”

“He said that maybe I should try to see you with different eyes.”

Sam’s breath went faster, his bloodstream boiled as his sight began to blur and darken on the sides, tunnel vision impeding him to see anything else but the head of the friend that had been by their side for so long.

“So I took his eyes.” Nick chuckled “Though I have to admit I didn’t see anything different after that!” He began to laugh as if he had said the funniest joke.

Sam turned around, the Taurus already on his hand, locked off and ready to strike as he turned to face Nick. He was screaming, he was screaming although he hadn't realized he was screaming and looking at Nick's mocking image he just couldn't stand it more.

He pulled the trigger.

He pulled the trigger.

He pulled the trigger.

He pulled the trigger.

He pulled the trigger.

And Nick was still standing and laughing so hard, so Sam kept up just to shut him up.

He pulled the trigger.

He pulled the trigger.

He pulled the trigger.

And his brother was trying to stop him. But Sam was larger and stronger and blaring deranged. He was so furious that no matter how many holes he was making on the man that had once hosted the Morningstar, it wasn't enough. He shot and shot and shot until the twelfth bullet came out and then, Sam woke up.

He opened up his eyes with a start and he could feel sticky sweat fall through his temples and making a cold path down his neck. His breath was ragged and his chest was in so much pain he felt like there was a stone pressing it. Desperate, reaching out for air, he turned to his side and sat up as fast as he could and when he finally regained some sort of control on the amount of oxygen getting in his lungs, he began to cry.

That’s the way Castiel found him. Small and crouched, tearing and trembling in the middle of a leather couch that under a light other than the cold, lifeless Netflix main screen might have been nice. He ran towards him and knelt by his side, reaching to his shoulders in worry.

“Sam are you alright? Sam? Sam!? … DEAN!”

When Sam barely registered the angel screaming for his brother he turned to look at him with desperate pleading eyes and threw himself at his arms. Body falling heavily to the ground at his lap.

“Cas, Cas, I’m sorry Cas, I’m so, so sorry I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t stop, I… I couldn’t...” 

A flow of words so mixed up with sobs that Castiel was barely able to understand. A rush of steps coming from who knows where. Strong hand grabbing the back of his neck with an ease that helped Sam realize he was safe but it still hurt so bad, it hurt so much he felt like breaking.

“Fucking hell Sammy just try to get up, come on man, you can do it.” 

That was the only thing Sam could process from all the things his brother was saying to soothe him. He doesn’t remember well how he got up, if he actually got up at all by himself but he does remember being gently led through the hallway by strong hands that obviously belonged to Castiel, to whom he was clinching like a lifeline.

He remembers laying down in a bed and being covered in a light cool sheet and holding so tight to Castiel that he didn’t realize who had taken off his shoes or when the lights had gone off. He remembers something heavy weighing down the other side of the mattress and Dean’s hand caressing his head like ages ago when he had been nothing but a child. He remembers gentle hands softly pressing circles on his back, soothing him, urging him to calm down and sleep. Just sleep. And he remembers that last vacuous deep sigh he gave away after tearing so much he believed there was not gonna be a way he could actually feel anything anymore and gave up his consciousness once more. 

The following day he woke up still spent and tired but feeling awkwardly light, free. The weight that had been his brother missing but still warm enough to show his place hadn’t been empty for long. He sighed once more and felt Castiel’s hand on his back caressing him in a soothing manner. He looked up to see his friend’s face. His beautiful blue eyes, currently darkened in between the shadows of the unlit room were there. Alive.

“Good morning Sam” Castiel said in a soft rasp whisper. Almost afraid to startle him as if he was a small frightened creature.

“...morning” He answered back by habit, unsure on how he should react about anything at the moment.

Castiel let out a visible sight and smiled tiredly at Sam. The angel was as beautiful today as the day they first met. Even more so because of the fact that this Castiel here was there for them because he wanted to and not because he had received orders from heaven or anyone else and because he was holding onto him like he had never seen him hold onto anybody else before. 

“I’m sorry, I must have freaked you out.”

“How do you feel Sam?”

Sam sighed.

“I… I had a nightmare, you know?”

Castiel heard it all and surrounded him comfortingly with his arm.

“It was just a nightmare Sam.”

Sam tightened his grasp on him and hid his face in Castiel’s neck. 

“Yes but I… I was so mad and I killed Nick and—”

“Sam.” Castiel pulled him away enough to look at him “It was a dream. Nick is dead. You never did anything to him in real life so I believe you can have a bit of leeway in whatever your dreams want to do with that excuse of a human being.”

Sam looked at Castiel surprised and considered his words.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“And most important, you’re just human. There’s no sin in that.”

“Guess I’ll have to take that seeing that an actual angel just said it.” Sam confided coyly.

Castiel laughed and, unlike ever before, he caressed Sam’s face. Moving away some strands of hair from his face and tucking them behind his ear. Sam felt the intimacy like it was the first time he had ever felt Castiel’s fingers on him and he looked at him with a longing that he had never felt so strong before.

“What is it Sam?”

He was so close and Sam was so tired of everything going wrong in their lives, before his brain could stop him he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Castiel’s softly. And he felt it, he felt the shock of his friend in the way his fingers retreated for a second and in the way he stopped breathing for a moment and then he felt how the angel began to caress him and tangle his fingers in Sam’s hair, kindly pressing back into Sam.

They didn’t make out passionately like in the movies, they just turned their heads enough to lock their lips and kiss in a tender, sensual motion, grasping tight enough to stay together but not hard enough that it would be painful to the other. Sam was so enthralled in Castiel’s touch that he didn’t feel his brother come back with a cup of tea. 

Dean stopped for a second at the frame of the door glancing at them, soundlessly moving inside to place the cup at the bedside table. He looked at them once more almost to be sure his eyes were not playing tricks on him and then, scratching his head, he walked away from the room sighing and closing the door tight. 

There would be plenty of time to make fun of them later. At least he was glad his brother would be alright.


End file.
